Invoking Marla

Am I cheapening Marla's memory by using her death to teach a point about living?

I had been having problems with my computer. Small but annoying things, like you can't be on the Internet and print at the same time.

So one night, after the kids had gone to sleep, I decided to upgrade the operating system. I'd done it plenty of times before on other computers. You just pop in the Windows CD and follow the instructions.

Or so I thought.

When the blue screen of death appeared, I got worried. When the computer froze up the second, third and fourth times, I started to panic.

I called my friend Craig.

"Have you backed up all your data?" he asked.

"Of course," I said. I'm smart enough to know that things can and usually do go wrong with computers.

After some discussion, Craig took a pessimistic tone. "I think you're going to have to reformat the hard drive."

I had already anticipated this as a possibility. But before executing the Reformat command, I decided to just double check that my data was indeed OK on the backup CD.

I took it downstairs to Jody's computer. A single CD with my most valuable data on it. All my stories for this column. Email communications for the past three years. Tax documents.

And then I dropped the disk on the floor.

OK, just pick it up, Brian. Don't move. No funny stuff. Easy does it…

But as I turned the rolling office chair to pick up the disk, the chair's legs moved unexpectedly and ran straight over the disk. I grabbed it.

Two huge skid marks across both sides. I put it in the CD drive. No response.

I tried again. OK, now I could see the files. I tried to copy something.

"Error: Can't read from disk."

Then it went dead completely. And I let out a scream.

It was as close to blood curdling as I know how. The kind the villain emits in the movies when the priceless jewels fall out of his hands into some deep dark void. All I could think of was: All my data. Dead. Gone. Forever. I needed that scream.

As soon as I did it, though, I realized it was a mistake. Ten-year-old Merav woke up from her adjoining bedroom. "What happened?" she cried out from her bed.

Twelve-year-old Amir, still awake in his bed had been listening to the whole thing and was sharing in my panic. "Abba, your data going to be OK. It has to be. Won't it Abba?"

I was starting to feel faint. The blood was rushing from my head.

Then my wife invoked Marla. "Calm down It's not like someone died."

Jody came running downstairs. "Calm down," she implored, the voice of reason. "It's just a disk. I'm sure there are ways to get the data back. We'll call someone. There are programs to fix these kind of things, aren't there?"

And then she invoked Marla.

"It's not like someone died," she said.

Her timing couldn't be more on-target. It's been two years this week since Marla Bennett, our cousin, was murdered in the attack at Hebrew University on July 31, 2002.

Immediately, I felt like an idiot. Getting so worked up over "things." Possessions. Data could be reconstructed. Worst case, I'd just have to recreate the stories, or write new ones. Email addresses could be retrieved.

I was taken back to a morning a few weeks earlier. Merav and Aviv were fighting about something before heading off to school. Nothing major; just the sort of quibble that breaks out periodically between siblings. But Aviv started to cry, and Merav was sent to her room.

When her time-out was over, Merav immediately grabbed her backpack and violin and stormed out the door without saying a word.

Now, since Marla died, I have made a point of always giving a kiss and a hug before anyone trots off to school.

I caught up with Merav on the staircase. And I invoked Marla, too.

"Is this really worth it?" I asked, "Getting so angry over a little fight. Imagine if on the morning that Marla died she had a fight with her future husband and had left without saying goodbye and then she was killed. That would be the last thing the two of them would remember; that they left angry without saying I love you."

Merav got it. Kids are so much quicker than adults on the important stuff.

But afterward I thought: is it fair, is it right to invoke Marla? To "use" her death in such an obvious, almost cliched way, to teach a point about living? Is there a minimum level of injustice, I wondered, that is appropriate for invoking Marla, so that we don't cheapen her memory?

Or is that the point? That any way that Marla, through her death, can help us to grow to be better people is worthwhile.

About my data. Fortunately, I hadn't reformatted the hard drive when I went to check the CD, so the data was still there and I was able to retrieve it with the help of some high-priced technical support. The operating system was successfully restored and the computer is pretty much back to the way it was.

But I received some new data that hadn't been there before: That nothing is worth getting desperately upset over. Unless it's someone you love, and then no program in the world can retrieve that data.

Visitor Comments: 8

(8)
S Rosenblum,
August 16, 2004 12:00 AM

You have courage

I don't think that I would have the courage to do a Marla as a constant reminder--that's hard. We too lost a cousin in a terrorost attack 2 years ago--Erez was 18. I could have Marla in my thoughts--what if... when something goes bad, but I don't think that I would have the courage to keep on making people remember that we lost someone we loved. I did enjoy the article.

(7)
Michael Bennett,
August 14, 2004 12:00 AM

Thanks Brian

Thanks Brian for this column. Marla was my daughter and the best human being I ever knew. You know that. I invoke her memory the same way you do, to let people know that life is too short to create large problems out of things that don't really matter that much in the course of our lives. You have my permission to use her death in this way any time you feel the need. Thanks again for remembering and caring.

(6)
raye,
August 10, 2004 12:00 AM

Unfinished Business

It's like unfinished business when you cannot resolve the senseless estrangements among family members when there is a death in the family, especially when it is that of a young person. Geographic distances make it even harder to do so. How fortunate is the author of this article to have the opportunity to teach his children a most important lesson.

(5)
Ruth Lando,
August 8, 2004 12:00 AM

"Invoking Marla"

Have I ever felt guilty "invoking Lianne"? Our daughter was murdered 19 years ago, and to this day, I invoke her name and her memory when her sister or brothers say or do something that she would not approve of. Now I am doing the same thing with my grandchildren. Somehow, I don't feel guilty, it seems to be my way of having us all remember -- not be afraid to speak of her, and perhaps thinking of what she would say or do.
Actually, this is my way of coping with such a loss of her life. Ruth

(4)
Miryam Rabin,
August 8, 2004 12:00 AM

wonderful article

This is a wonderful article, moving. Brian, I do not think you did wrong by thinking and using Marla's death as an example, on the contrary I believe you are honoring her memory because through her death you have realized that material things are not as valuable as the people we love and I'm sure it made your kids realize the importance of reminding them to always show each other that they love each other. I know what is like to lose someone you love after a disagreement, its horrible you always carry that guilt within you.

(3)
david schwartz,
August 8, 2004 12:00 AM

what's important

i had some work i had to do on the afternoon of 9 Av this year. my machine crashed. i reformatted. and i thought how odd. here i am worried about it, but my relations to my people, faith, HaShem need to be paramount. it was a bit of a knock upside the head but not nearly as paramount to the Temple or people like Marla, May she have an aliyah B'Shamayim. it is all about perspective.

(2)
Beverly Kurtin,
August 8, 2004 12:00 AM

Great Segue

No, Brian, you're not cheapening Marla's memory, you're honoring it by reminding all of us that there are some things in this life worth fussing over and some that are not.

However, as a retired computer engineer, I'd suggest doing something that we can't do with our loved ones: make backups of your backups.

I'm going to share this with some of my friends who constantly call in a panic, seeking (free) support.

(1)
Anonymous,
August 8, 2004 12:00 AM

Point is that coping with life is hard but at least we have a life to cope with.

Sadly, many children are faced with knowing other children who have died suddenly and unexpectedly. This invokes fear and guilt that it is possible to happen to them too, or to their loved ones. Actually, we still do have to sweat the small things because our lives center around them. My daughter, 13, recently lost a neighbor/classmate/friend, 12, in a car accident. I too question mentioning (invoking) her name because of the emotionally charged circumstances of her untimely death. This article is worth reading as it brings to light the dilemma of many who wish to keep the memory of a niftar respected and yet want to make sense of the death.

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

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